


Presenting: A Vision In Visions Attire

by IntoThePerVerse



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Oral, Rimming, betermiles, cross-dressing, kinks not representative of rl, legs for days, miles gets in over his head, miles is as aged up as you need him to be to feel comfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoThePerVerse/pseuds/IntoThePerVerse
Summary: Miles gets creative with his wardrobe, and Beter approves wholeheartedly.





	Presenting: A Vision In Visions Attire

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the art of the most excellent [qouii_dey](https://twitter.com/qouii_dey) and [Artsertive](https://twitter.com/artsertive) on twitter. And dedicated to the most wretched and sinful discord server I've ever had the privilege of enjoying. Thank you all for being so supportive!
> 
> You can find me on twitter at [VersePer](https://twitter.com/VersePer/).
> 
> If this isn't your cup of tea, don't read it! The tags are right up there ⬆ for your viewing pleasure. How helpful!

“So… Do you like it?”

Miles’ cheeks are flushed as he stares Peter down, bottom lip and chin both stuck out in defiance of his own nerves. He’s radiating anxious energy, but doing a top job of pretending otherwise, his narrow shoulders squarely set and feet planted firmly beneath them. Peter only realises he’s left the question unanswered when Miles clears his throat - that he’s gotten caught up staring, letting his gaze rove up and down the long body in front of him. Miles’ arms tighten over the textbook he clutches to his front ( _ oh wow oh shit he’s even thought to accessorise _ ), his hips angling to one side, causing the pleats of his skirt to ruffle against his thighs--

“Peter.”

\-- because Miles is - for some unknown but  _ blessed  _ reason - stood before him wearing a  _ girls’ school uniform _ and--

“Peter!”

Miles isn’t staring down at him anymore - he’s looking away, lips pressed together in an awkward line. Peter feels a pang of guilt, though how he’s expected to do anything but sit, slack-jawed and silent with awe, when presented with such a sight is anyone’s guess.

He reaches up to slide his fingers beneath Miles’, pulling the book out of his grasp and tossing it onto the cushions beside him. Miles doesn’t seem to know what to do with his arms then, but Peter helps him out by taking one of his wrists and using it to tug him forward, until long, bare legs straddle one of his own.

“I love it,” he whispers, angling his eyes up.  He’s relieved to see Miles’ lips quirk into a smile.

He touches Miles’ legs first, just above his knees - showing incredible restraint, even if he says so himself. He can feel the soft texture of hair beneath the slow, upward slide of his fingertips, loves the way the sparse but masculine growth contrasts with his outfit. Miles is as reactive as ever, his skin prickling with goosebumps from that light touch alone; Peter bites back a laugh, knowing that Miles would take it as teasing rather than appreciation. He lets his fingertips brush higher, beneath the pleated hem of his skirt, to seek out his underwear and maybe delve beneath--

Wait, is Miles... going commando? No, Peter’s fingers finally settle on something--

And he all but short-circuits.

“Uh… Peter? Is it - Are you okay?”

Peter stares forward, intense but unseeing as his fingers trace along the thin straps of Miles’ thong, his brain going into overdrive even as all the blood in it drains down to his dick. This is even hotter than if Miles wasn’t wearing  _ anything…  _ Peter can’t even see it and it’s already driving him mad, and suddenly he can’t decide what he wants to do, too many possibilities rushing through his head. It feels wasteful and decadent to dive right in when Miles has been so thoughtful… like he’s something to be savoured, unwrapped slowly and with the utmost care...

Whatever he decides, Miles needs to be rewarded for his efforts. Peter swallows and licks his lower lip, and to that end, hooks his thumbs over Miles’ thong and draws it down.

The erection which springs forward, tenting the skirt mere inches from his face, makes Peter’s mind up for him.

“Lift it up.”

Miles jolts in surprise at the intensity of Peter’s tone, before laughing quietly, sounding far more innocent than anyone in his position - and attire - should.

“C’mon man, that’s embarrassing, don’t make me-”

Peter jerks Miles’ forward by his hips, so that he can press his face against the front of his skirt, breathing heavy so he’ll feel the heat of his mouth through the fabric. It’s rough against his stubbled cheek, so must feel ten-times worse against Miles’ cock; he pulls back to look up at him, and the sight of him flushed and flustered from just that, teeth biting into his lower lip, almost makes Peter want to do it again.

But...

“Lift your skirt up for me, Miles,” he says, much more gently this time, though no less coaxing. And though they twitch nervously, Miles’ hands come down to do just that, curling at the hem to draw his skirt up to his hips. Peter’s slide down to his thighs, holding him in place as he leans back to watch every inch of the slow reveal. Miles’ cock stands to attention, leaning slightly to one side where it sticks out from the white pouch of his thong; the white hem of his school shirt peeks out above too, framing it. It’s bigger than anyone his age’s has any right to be, in Peter’s opinion, bigger than Peter himself was as a teen - not that he’s complaining, of course.

“Good boy… Keep it there,” he tells him, and leans forward to lick him from base to tip.

Miles has gotten better at withstanding Peter’s attentions, but he’s still quick to moan, voice hitching as Peter greedily mouths the length of him. If he’s anything as turned on by this situation as Peter is - by being forced to stand, holding up the hem of his cute little skirt while he gets sucked off - then he won’t last long regardless, but Peter wants to at least get a taste of him. He flicks his tongue against the base of his glans before doing just that, groaning thickly when he tastes the salt of Miles’ pre-cum, and it’s all he can do not to suck him down to the hilt straight away. He settles for pawing at his own cock through his sweatpants, unable to resist any longer, caught up in Miles’ soft whines and panting moans.

Sounds which only increase in fervour as he bobs his way further down Miles’ cock, lavishing it with his tongue as he goes; Miles is even more vocal than usual - must really be getting into the role he’s picked for himself with this outfit. Spurred on, it’s not long before Peter’s nose is buried in the curls at the base of his dick, despite how he’d planned to draw the whole thing out.

“Ah - ah -  _ Peter _ ,” come the whimpers from above, and Peter knows he has only moments to decide how he wants this to go. It ends up an easy choice though; Miles has been so good today - inspired, really - that it’s about time he was rewarded.

Miles’ thigh begins to tremble in Peter’s grip, and he takes the cue to grab his hips with both hands, supporting him as his orgasm overwhelms him. Miles’ fingers grapple in Peter’s hair, his job of holding his skirt up forgotten as he doubles over, breaths coming in violent gasps. Peter feels his cock twitch and tense against the flat of his tongue and then hot spurts hit the back of his throat, sending a triumphant shudder through him and making his own cock throb in glorious sympathy. He sucks and swallows in turn, milking Miles for every drop, until the fingers in his hair go lax and Miles is left whining from the over-stimulation.

 

  
  
Miles feels weightless one moment then lead-heavy the next, as if gravity’s caught up with him mid spider-swing. He flops and the sofa comes up to meet him, and when he finally peels his eyes open Peter’s stood above him, one eyebrow arched over lidded eyes and one hand kneading the front of his sweatpants.

“Feel good, kid?” He asks, and Miles can only nod, though judging by the aching in his cheeks he must be smiling like a lunatic. Then he realises he’s not  _ all  _ good, and begins tugging at the hem of his sweater.

“‘Ts… hot in here, dude,” he grumbles, and Peter’s hands are quick to join his, helping to pull the offending garment over his head. Miles tugs at his shirt too, but here Peter takes over, pushing his hands away so that he can slide his own beneath the fabric, palms searing hot against Miles’ already burning skin.

“How’d you get the idea for this?” He asks, nonchalant as Miles squirms under his touch, until he relents and moves on to popping the buttons open.

“Caught you perving on girls at my school,” Miles quips, reaching up to loosen the choke-hold his tie has on him.

“Ah-ah-ah, tie stays on,” Peter stops him short of removing it (but doesn’t refute his comment), then pops the last button at his throat and spreads his shirt open. His gaze grows intent, his fingers tracing the barely-there lines of Miles’ abs, then up either side of his tie to his pecs.

“You want a hand-job or something?” Miles asks, his own gaze lingering on the still-prominent bulge in Peter’s sweats. Then he yelps as his nipples are roughly tweaked, arching off the sofa.

“Hey!”

“Hah,” Peter states in his classic monotone, though his lips are quirked up at the corner. “You’re going to go to all this effort, then try and fob me off with a lousy handjob? C’mon Miles, I taught you better than that.”

Miles can’t really argue with that, but he’s still unprepared when Peter stands to tower over him, and says:

“Get on your knees, bud. Over the back of the sofa.”

Miles begins to splutter and protest, but Peter merely looks unimpressed and makes a turning motion with his finger.

“I’m not going to do anything you won’t like. Trust me, kid.”

Miles’ lips twist together, but he doesn’t technically have any reason to doubt Peter, even if he would rather just finish him off quick and get out of - what is turning out to be - a rather itchy skirt. He pushes himself up and does as Peter says, his cheeks flushing the moment he’s in position - and then even deeper as he’s manhandled forward, until his chest rests against the sofa back and his sneakers hook on the cushions’ edge. He feels Peter come to kneel between them, his fingers sliding beneath his skirt.

“This is fucking hot, you know,” Peter says in that same nonchalant tone, hiking the skirt up, tracing the tip of a finger between Miles’ cheeks, down the long line of his thong. Miles swallows, feeling every bit as exposed as he did earlier. More, actually, since he can’t see Peter - can only hear the awful,  _ awesome _ things he’s saying, so close that Miles can feel them on his skin.

“Knew you were brilliant, but never thought you’d have an idea like this,” he continues, and then suddenly Miles is being lifted up by his hips, a second cushion being shoved beneath his knees. He feels Peter’s thumbs spreading him open, a tugging on the thong until it’s rubbing up against the pucker of his asshole, and it’s all he can do to simply hug the sofa and whimper.

Shit, he’s going to be hard again in no time. Peter’s  _ ruthless… _

...and absolutely not above anything, as he tweaks the thong aside and replaces it with his tongue.

“Ah--!!” Miles cries out in surprise, his back arching sharply and presenting him to Peter all the better.

“Peter-- don’t--”

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Peter groans, and Miles is taken back to the first time he heard that tone, when Peter choked down $60,000 worth of burgers late one winter night. He freezes up, then goes boneless a second later, clinging to the sofa as Peter licks from the base of his balls all the way up. Miles feels more vulnerable than ever; each time Peter’s tongue leaves him, he feels its absence in the brush of cool air against the spit left behind, big thumbs holding him open to it. Then the warm, insistent press of his tongue returns, and he keeps making those hungry, guttural sounds - Miles isn’t just hard again, he’s sure he’s going to cum inside his skirt any moment.

Except - he doesn’t. Peter isn’t touching his dick, and he isn’t stroking up inside him like he does with his fingers. Miles feels like he’s on a knife-edge, held there by the amazing stroke and probe of Peter’s tongue, the warm, strong muscle somehow knowing exactly how to work him open without any ache or sting. He arches his head back and pants, realises his hips are jerking of their own accord - as much as Peter’s grip will allow - to seek out sensation to help push him further - though in truth he wants to hang here like this forever.

“Peter--  _ Peter _ , so good,” he manages to choke out, and he  _ feels  _ rather than hears Peter’s responding laugh. Then he pulls back and plants his hands on Miles’ hips, drawing them back and down--

Miles can’t help the choked yell which escapes him as he feels the hot press of Peter’s cock between his cheeks. Then he hears that laugh in return again, and Peter’s fingers stroke where they hold his hips, soothing him as he realises that the press isn’t intrusive at all.

“Don’t worry. Not going that far,” Peter murmurs, slowly moving his hips so that his cock rides up the cleft of Miles’ ass. Like he’s fucking him, but not. Miles swallows and looks back over his shoulder, to see Peter, broad and imperfectly perfect, his brown eyes lidded and lips open as he in turn watches the slide of his cock against Miles’ ass. Miles follows his gaze and he can just see the ruddy head of it, peeking up past the rumpled folds of his skirt, and he shudders.

“Gonna make you cum again, bud,” Peter says, voice heavy with need, and a moment later Miles’ hips are being hiked up again, his thighs pressed firmly together. Peter’s cock slides between them, thicker than Miles’ and rubbing up against it with every movement, the slow pump of his hips becoming a determined thrust. Miles cries out at the sudden sensation -  _ all  _ the sensations: the wonderful friction of Peter’s cock against his, the way it presses his thong up against him, damp from his spit. The grip of his hands on his hips, the slap of his balls on the backs of his thighs, the weight of his belly against his ass…

He doesn’t know how long Peter fucks him like this - it could be moments, it could be hours. He’s boneless, arms draped across - no longer even able to weakly cling to - the sofa back, his head hanging over it as he drools and moans. When his orgasm comes it’s without the build-up he felt earlier; it happens all at once, catching him completely off guard, like a subway car from the multiverse or a New York taxi from the dark. He keens, throat raw as his dick twitches between his belly and the constant slide of Peter’s beneath it and a moment later it’s emptying itself into his skirt, and he can feel the slickness of it on Peter’s cock as he pulls it from between his thighs--

Peter’s knuckles bump against him four - no, five - times before he hears his breath hitch and suddenly he feels the searing spread of Peter’s cum across his ass, the groan which accompanies it long and deep, reverberating out of him. His own dripping cock twitches in response and Miles fights to catch his breath, strains to look back over his shoulder again and see Peter haloed in his after-glow…

“Made a mess,” he grunts, but Miles can hear the smile in it before he even sees it. Peter’s fingers trail through said mess before tugging Miles’ skirt down to cover it, and then he’s tugging at him, encouraging him to kneel up.

Miles does so with a sigh, rolling his shoulders out before they meet Peter’s chest and broad arms wrap around him. He shivers, their heat reminding his body of how chill the room is, but they’re better at warming him up than any sweater would be anyway.

“Thanks, Miles. That was awesome,” Peter says, his face pressed against Miles’, his stubbled lips finding the crook of his neck. Miles leans back into him and lets his eyes slip closed, wants to soak up Peter’s heat and affection for as long as he can. Awesome is right. Awesome, is an understatement.

“Loved it. Love you, bud.”

“Love you too Peter.”

It’s a good thing Gwen won’t be attending Visions again, because Miles definitely isn’t giving her uniform back.


End file.
